I have been struggling internally with a big problem that I have while writing this blog.
There are topics about which I really want to write, but I find that my frustrations regarding certain elements of the topic at hand might come off as disrespectful to my new homeland.
I want to be fair. South Carolina and New Hampshire are very different. The way things are done are bound to be different.
But I can't avoid the things that piss me off while writing about my experiences. Because some things do.
To write only about the pleasant surprises that I discover is dishonest.
And frustrating.
There are things I just can't deal with around here. There are things that don't just befuddle me a little bit: they make me wonder what in the hell the people in the Midlands of South Carolina are thinking.
Or if they are thinking at all.
So periodically, I will have to share these frustrations, and potentially annoy some people.
But maybe the annoyed people can help me understand this culture a little better by explaining why things happen the way they do.
So here we go.
Driving.
I will start by saying that people are pretty patient at traffic lights. There is very little honking of horns. And people tend to make complete stops around here. People will even make space to let you into a line that is waiting at a traffic light. Other than that, there are issues with driver conduct and road planning that make-a-me crazy.
Accidents:
There are accidents. All. The. Time. It is very typical to find the results of and accident at a traffic light or in the middle of an intersection. Basically any time a person is supposed to yield to another, you are likely to find two cars tangled up, waiting for the non-existent police to show up. My daughter, May, and I saw the results of an accident in front of the local Wal Mart just yesterday. It took over a half an hour for Emergency Medical Services to arrive.
Less than two weeks after we moved here, I was yielding at a yield sign to oncoming traffic near the University of South Carolina in Columbia. I got rear-ended.
Then I got honked at for pulling over and checking with the other driver for damage to the car.
Weirdly, I see very few accidents on the highway. Which brings me to
Speeding:
The average highway speed on my morning commute on I-26 is 80 miles per hour. Wait. That's MY average highway speed. Everyone else passes me like I am standing still. I get tailgated if I go less than 80, and frankly, it makes me nervous. The only time speed is reduced is when we approach
Hills:
I have to give credit to May for noticing this one right off the bat. She said "people here just can't deal with hills." And is she ever right. Those who were honking and riding my tail at eighty miles per hour are soon going 50 or less in the middle of a hill. People living in a flat area presumably are not trained to begin preparing for a hill climb by depressing the big peddle on the right a little more firmly. The vast fluctuations in speed are dangerous and cause a lot of swerving and weaving in and out of traffic to gain "advantage", as if this were a NASCAR race rather than a way to return to our loved ones after work.
Cell phones:
It is not illegal to talk on cell phones while driving here. I have watched people navigating dangerous intersections, pulling out of parking spaces, and speeding at 95 miles per hour with kids in the car (without seat belts), all while talking on the phone. I am pretty sure that this is what causes so many of the accidents down here.
Terrible visibility:
Intersections and driveways to businesses nearly always have decorative shrubbery right in the line of sight. Obviously they are not accustomed to removing feet of snow to improve visibility, and therefore consider aesthetics over safety.
Turning left:
I knew I was onto something when one of my coworkers, who has lived in this area for 25 years, laughed at the observation that taking lefts in the Midlands was inadvisable. In order to survive, it is essential to plan errands in such a way that the only left turns one takes are at traffic lights with left arrows. The combination of speed, terrible visibility, and cell phone driving makes it difficult to gauge effectively and turn left without incident. Which leads to
Debris in the road:
Another reason we try not to take left turns is that they require use of the center turn (or "suicide") lane, which is filed with the remains of previous accidents. During our first month here, we had to replace a tire that had picked up a shard of metal in the turn lane. There seems to be no clean up after an accident. For eight weeks, we tracked the progress of a thick chain in the middle of an intersection near our house. Sure, I could have cleaned it up if I wanted to face the cell phone wielding, speeding, accident prone drivers of our town, but instead I chose to make fun of it. There is always trash and tire chunks in the breakdown lanes of highways as well. For my entire commute, I not only have to face tailgating, speeding cellphone users, but I must also dodge tire shreds without hitting those that surround me, a task made even more difficult by the
Chronic construction:
To be fair, the rest of the state has lovely wide-laned highways that are in good shape. My husband's coworkers, who live in the town where I work, and work in the town where I live, agree that we share the worst possible commute in the state. I-26 has been under construction for years, and on days when I am cranky, the sounds of grooved pavement on my tires for 45 minutes can be a little too much. Lanes are narrow, uneven, grooved, and sometimes closed. My commute, compounded with the other obstacles I face make me feel as skilled as player one in Grand Theft Auto. The unfortunate part is that I cannot push the pause button so I can go get a cup of coffee.
Which I guess I will do now.
Oh who am I kidding? It will be a cup of ice cream.
Friday, January 1, 2016
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Monograms
Women in South Carolina sure like to label their stuff.
Now I remember in the 1980s, with the preppie movement, many young New England women monogrammed their sweaters, and maybe their handbags with the changeable covers.
But here and now they label everything.
Normal things like backpacks and clothing are to be expected. But it wasn't until I saw a young woman at school with what looked to be $250 leather cowboy boots with her initials stitched into them that I realized that this was a phenomenon.
I have seen cars, coolers, and coffee cups monogrammed. I have seen motorcycles, leggings, sweatshirts, laptops and hats monogrammed.
Here is a smattering of an ordinary day in my classroom. All of the following pictures in this entry were taken in one day at work. Only one of them outside my classroom.
This last one is a classroom door, emblazoned with initials of our art teacher.
There were several more bags and lunchboxes, but displaying the full name of a student seems like crossing a privacy line. Although the students gave me permission to do so, I chose not to snap the photos.
Interestingly, I have noticed that African American women tend to put the whole name or the full first name on their items, while the White and Latina population tend to stick to the three initials - the large one in the center being the surname.
Now that Christmas time is here, radio ads promising to monogram ANYTHING in time for the holidays are filling the airwaves.
One of the best videos I have seen regarding the sheer breadth of items that can be monogrammed is here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZn_Uc8ZHYU . It's a high school student showing off her various monogrammed gear.
If you want to know where to get items monogrammed, check out the video of this experienced monogrammer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdPYDWupihU
The videos are not professionally done, but if you are curious about this phenomenon, and you have ten minutes, you might find it interesting.
The kids tell me that they think that the monogramming trend is on its way out. Kids usually know. But it makes me wonder if the trend, instead of dissipating, might migrate north.
Now I remember in the 1980s, with the preppie movement, many young New England women monogrammed their sweaters, and maybe their handbags with the changeable covers.
But here and now they label everything.
Normal things like backpacks and clothing are to be expected. But it wasn't until I saw a young woman at school with what looked to be $250 leather cowboy boots with her initials stitched into them that I realized that this was a phenomenon.
I have seen cars, coolers, and coffee cups monogrammed. I have seen motorcycles, leggings, sweatshirts, laptops and hats monogrammed.
Here is a smattering of an ordinary day in my classroom. All of the following pictures in this entry were taken in one day at work. Only one of them outside my classroom.
There were several more bags and lunchboxes, but displaying the full name of a student seems like crossing a privacy line. Although the students gave me permission to do so, I chose not to snap the photos.
Interestingly, I have noticed that African American women tend to put the whole name or the full first name on their items, while the White and Latina population tend to stick to the three initials - the large one in the center being the surname.
Now that Christmas time is here, radio ads promising to monogram ANYTHING in time for the holidays are filling the airwaves.
One of the best videos I have seen regarding the sheer breadth of items that can be monogrammed is here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZn_Uc8ZHYU . It's a high school student showing off her various monogrammed gear.
If you want to know where to get items monogrammed, check out the video of this experienced monogrammer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdPYDWupihU
The videos are not professionally done, but if you are curious about this phenomenon, and you have ten minutes, you might find it interesting.
The kids tell me that they think that the monogramming trend is on its way out. Kids usually know. But it makes me wonder if the trend, instead of dissipating, might migrate north.
Saturday, November 21, 2015
Offended
It started innocently enough.
I was explaining to my students that the word "vosotros" in Spanish, which none of them had studied before, meant, more or less "y'all" in English. At which point one of my students said, "My English teacher says that northerners find the word "y'all" offensive."
This declaration gave me pause.
Rushing to defend the north against unfair accusation, I said, "That's not true. I mean they recognize it as different. Cute, maybe. But not offensive. I think your English teacher just ran into a jerk from the north. Please know that it's not normal for someone to make a big deal out of it."
Distressed that my kids were being indoctrinated against northerners, I spoke with a coworker after school to share how ridiculous it was that this teacher would share such an unfounded opinion with the malleable minds of our high school.
Northerners do NOT find the word "y'all" offensive. They just don't.
Her response surprised me: "Oh yes they do."
What?
She told me that while she was studying in France, she spoke with people from all around the world in French with no problem, but that as soon as she spoke English, people disregarded her as stupid and uneducated, and she knew that it was because of her accent.
While I maintain that the word offensive might be used incorrectly here, I have to admit that she has a point.
With roots as deep as the Civil War, we have accepted, and deemed it socially acceptable to belittle the southern accent. The stereotype is perpetuated by Hollywood, and we, as a nation allow it.
Whenever a television or movie wants to ensure that the audience understands that a character is especially uneducated, that character is given a deep southern accent. While deep accents are fun to listen to, I am surprised that we don't more often use a chowder-slinging Boston accent, or a New Jersey intonation. After all, there are plenty of under educated folks in these areas as well.
Case in point: Lisa Simpson, the smartest person in the town of Springfield has a fantasy/daydream in which she ends up married to Ralph Wiggum and she has lost interest in her academic pursuits, which up until then has been the great joy of her life.
In her dream she is obese, in a hammock with a slew of children, and has a deep southern accent.
"The Simpsons" Courtesy of Fox Network.
No better are the memes we find on the internet every day:
I have never thought that southerners as a group were any more stupid than any other inhabitants of the earth, but you would think that all of North America does, because the stereotypes continue to be perpetuated.
As a teacher, this frustrates me. How can I tell my southern kids that northerners do not look down at them for their accent, when I really can't be sure that what I am saying is true? How can I make a difference in their perception of all northerners being rude, judgmental and unforgiving?
I guess I can only do my part by representing my home region the best I can. I will do my best to stay open minded, friendly, and kind; just like I always have. Although now there is a sense of urgency to it that I don't appreciate.
"Y'all" isn't offensive. Prejudging someone based on their accent: that's offensive.
I was explaining to my students that the word "vosotros" in Spanish, which none of them had studied before, meant, more or less "y'all" in English. At which point one of my students said, "My English teacher says that northerners find the word "y'all" offensive."
This declaration gave me pause.
Rushing to defend the north against unfair accusation, I said, "That's not true. I mean they recognize it as different. Cute, maybe. But not offensive. I think your English teacher just ran into a jerk from the north. Please know that it's not normal for someone to make a big deal out of it."
Distressed that my kids were being indoctrinated against northerners, I spoke with a coworker after school to share how ridiculous it was that this teacher would share such an unfounded opinion with the malleable minds of our high school.
Northerners do NOT find the word "y'all" offensive. They just don't.
Her response surprised me: "Oh yes they do."
What?
She told me that while she was studying in France, she spoke with people from all around the world in French with no problem, but that as soon as she spoke English, people disregarded her as stupid and uneducated, and she knew that it was because of her accent.
While I maintain that the word offensive might be used incorrectly here, I have to admit that she has a point.
With roots as deep as the Civil War, we have accepted, and deemed it socially acceptable to belittle the southern accent. The stereotype is perpetuated by Hollywood, and we, as a nation allow it.
Whenever a television or movie wants to ensure that the audience understands that a character is especially uneducated, that character is given a deep southern accent. While deep accents are fun to listen to, I am surprised that we don't more often use a chowder-slinging Boston accent, or a New Jersey intonation. After all, there are plenty of under educated folks in these areas as well.
Case in point: Lisa Simpson, the smartest person in the town of Springfield has a fantasy/daydream in which she ends up married to Ralph Wiggum and she has lost interest in her academic pursuits, which up until then has been the great joy of her life.
In her dream she is obese, in a hammock with a slew of children, and has a deep southern accent.
No better are the memes we find on the internet every day:
I have never thought that southerners as a group were any more stupid than any other inhabitants of the earth, but you would think that all of North America does, because the stereotypes continue to be perpetuated.
As a teacher, this frustrates me. How can I tell my southern kids that northerners do not look down at them for their accent, when I really can't be sure that what I am saying is true? How can I make a difference in their perception of all northerners being rude, judgmental and unforgiving?
I guess I can only do my part by representing my home region the best I can. I will do my best to stay open minded, friendly, and kind; just like I always have. Although now there is a sense of urgency to it that I don't appreciate.
"Y'all" isn't offensive. Prejudging someone based on their accent: that's offensive.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Franchise
During our first few weeks in the Midlands, Bill and I were ensconced in a lovely Comfort Inn and Suites for about a month. Being that we had no kitchen, we ate in nearly every restaurant in town.
One day, Bill had a craving for a good steak. So I went to my smart phone and Googled "Best steak in town". Number one steak in our town? According to Trip Advisor it was at Ruby Tuesday. Second best steak? At Fatz Cafe.
Let's just say that independently owned restaurants are not really, as my students would say, "a thing" down here. Oh, they exist. But they are less visible than that to which I am accustomed.
I remember seeing comedian Henry Cho on the "Half Hour Comedy Hour" on Comedy Central talking about his in-laws and their recent experience at a highly rated Italian restaurant in town. Their reaction? "It ain't no Olive Garden." This punch line has become my catch phrase when describing the restaurants in the area.
It seems that in the south, they love their franchises.
In fact, when my students heard that there was only one chicken franchise in the area where I lived before, they couldn't even fathom it. There were shouts of absolute disbelief, and exclamations of "What?!"
But the reaction is understandable when you look at the stats:
New Hampshire chicken franchises (that I know of): KFC
South Carolina Chicken Franchises: Popeye's
Church's
Chester's
Chik-Fil-A
Zaxby's
Bojangles
KFC
And there is never just one of these franchises in town. In the state capital, Columbia (population 133,000) there are 7 Zaxby's, 10 Chik-Fil-A, 7 KFC, 3 Popeye's, 14 Bojangles, 6 Church's Chicken, and then, of course there are the various other restaurants that offer chicken sandwiches.
Thus started the daily morning quiz by my students before school started, which eventually led to the grand comparison of franchises available in South Carolina, and those I knew to exist in NH. I started with the Waffle House, which I compare to Dunkin' Donuts; not because it sells donuts, but because there are several of them in the same town, no matter how small.
Here are restaurant franchises I had never heard of until I arrived:
Captain D's (seafood, much like Long John Silvers)
Fatz Cafe (Ruby Tuesday's type)
Zaxby's, Chester's Chicken, and Bojangles (Chicken places)
Lizard's Thicket ( an ice cream-less Friendly's)
Ryan's (a buffet steak house)
Cookout (a take out burger place)
San Jose (Mexican food)
All of the restaurants listed above are in the town of roughly 13,000 people in which we live, along with Cracker Barrel, Ruby Tuesday, Chik-Fil-A, McDonald's (2), Burger King (2), Wendy's, Sonic, Waffle House, Subway, Applebee's, Hardee's (2), Arby's (2), Popeye's Church's, IHOP, Pizza Hut (2), Papa John's, Taco Bell, Domino's, Blimpie, Shoney's and Little Ceasar's.
There are independent restaurants as well, and some of them are pretty decent. But it astonishes me that a town the size of Hooksett, NH can sustain this many franchised eateries.
And nobody calls them "chain" restaurants. They are franchises.
During that first month, we ate at a lot of these restaurants and at the end of it all we were very excited to move into a place with a kitchen.
And as for Dunkin' Donuts, wrap your northern New England brains around this: I see only one on my entire forty-minute commute to work.
One day, Bill had a craving for a good steak. So I went to my smart phone and Googled "Best steak in town". Number one steak in our town? According to Trip Advisor it was at Ruby Tuesday. Second best steak? At Fatz Cafe.
Let's just say that independently owned restaurants are not really, as my students would say, "a thing" down here. Oh, they exist. But they are less visible than that to which I am accustomed.
I remember seeing comedian Henry Cho on the "Half Hour Comedy Hour" on Comedy Central talking about his in-laws and their recent experience at a highly rated Italian restaurant in town. Their reaction? "It ain't no Olive Garden." This punch line has become my catch phrase when describing the restaurants in the area.
It seems that in the south, they love their franchises.
In fact, when my students heard that there was only one chicken franchise in the area where I lived before, they couldn't even fathom it. There were shouts of absolute disbelief, and exclamations of "What?!"
But the reaction is understandable when you look at the stats:
New Hampshire chicken franchises (that I know of): KFC
South Carolina Chicken Franchises: Popeye's
Church's
Chester's
Chik-Fil-A
Zaxby's
Bojangles
KFC
And there is never just one of these franchises in town. In the state capital, Columbia (population 133,000) there are 7 Zaxby's, 10 Chik-Fil-A, 7 KFC, 3 Popeye's, 14 Bojangles, 6 Church's Chicken, and then, of course there are the various other restaurants that offer chicken sandwiches.
Thus started the daily morning quiz by my students before school started, which eventually led to the grand comparison of franchises available in South Carolina, and those I knew to exist in NH. I started with the Waffle House, which I compare to Dunkin' Donuts; not because it sells donuts, but because there are several of them in the same town, no matter how small.
Here are restaurant franchises I had never heard of until I arrived:
Captain D's (seafood, much like Long John Silvers)
Fatz Cafe (Ruby Tuesday's type)
Zaxby's, Chester's Chicken, and Bojangles (Chicken places)
Lizard's Thicket ( an ice cream-less Friendly's)
Ryan's (a buffet steak house)
Cookout (a take out burger place)
San Jose (Mexican food)
All of the restaurants listed above are in the town of roughly 13,000 people in which we live, along with Cracker Barrel, Ruby Tuesday, Chik-Fil-A, McDonald's (2), Burger King (2), Wendy's, Sonic, Waffle House, Subway, Applebee's, Hardee's (2), Arby's (2), Popeye's Church's, IHOP, Pizza Hut (2), Papa John's, Taco Bell, Domino's, Blimpie, Shoney's and Little Ceasar's.
There are independent restaurants as well, and some of them are pretty decent. But it astonishes me that a town the size of Hooksett, NH can sustain this many franchised eateries.
And nobody calls them "chain" restaurants. They are franchises.
During that first month, we ate at a lot of these restaurants and at the end of it all we were very excited to move into a place with a kitchen.
And as for Dunkin' Donuts, wrap your northern New England brains around this: I see only one on my entire forty-minute commute to work.
Friday, October 23, 2015
The list
Bill and I spent the first several weeks of our move to South Carolina in a hotel. We hadn't had time to locate a home, since I had finished school on a Thursday and moved on Saturday, only to begin school that following Monday.
Bill had started a week before, exactly three days after he left his job in New Hampshire.
Feeling somewhat rudderless, and unsure of my students' reactions to a northern accent, I decided to trick them into being on my side. The last questions on their first homework assignment read,"Now that Doña Ursula lives in South Carolina, she should..."
What I quickly learned is that my South Carolina kids are like my New Hampshire kids in that, although they like to complain that "there really is nothing to do here," they still want people to like it.
The answers were fun. And students have been eager to hear about my reactions as I try the foods and experiences that they had suggested. Each weekend I report out on the items that I have been able to check off my list.
Here are some of the things they suggested:
Go to the drive in movies at the Big MO
Go to Shealy's Barba
Visit the zoo/museum
Go to Lake Murray
Go to Miyabi's
Go to Myrtle Beach
Eat boiled peanuts
Eat chicken bog
Try sweet tea
Visit Charleston
Go to Groncho's and get and STP
Visit the Riverwalk, Congaree National Park and Saluda Shows Park
Get a tour of the South Carolina State House- it's cool!
Eat a pizzaburger
Spend the weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains
Go to HiWire in Irmo
Go to Carowinds
Go to Cupcake Down South
Go to Paparoni's Grill
Go to 5 Points
Go to the Vista
Go to the South Carolina State Fair
Go to a football game
Go to the Isle of Palms
Enjoy our beautiful State. Columbia is 2 hours from whatever you want!
Stay
Learn the accents
Eat grits
Go to the Columbiana Mall
Needless to say, I don't know what half of this stuff means (what's a chicken bog?!), but I try to check something off the list every week. I am not always successful, but my students are genuinely excited when I report back to them that I have taken their suggestions. It takes about 10 minutes out of class time, but the good will I get in return has been worth it. These kids are invested in my success, and they want me to enjoy living here.
The first inkling of a rudder to guide my new life has come from my students. They are my first southern community.
And I am very grateful.
Bill had started a week before, exactly three days after he left his job in New Hampshire.
Feeling somewhat rudderless, and unsure of my students' reactions to a northern accent, I decided to trick them into being on my side. The last questions on their first homework assignment read,"Now that Doña Ursula lives in South Carolina, she should..."
What I quickly learned is that my South Carolina kids are like my New Hampshire kids in that, although they like to complain that "there really is nothing to do here," they still want people to like it.
The answers were fun. And students have been eager to hear about my reactions as I try the foods and experiences that they had suggested. Each weekend I report out on the items that I have been able to check off my list.
Here are some of the things they suggested:
Go to the drive in movies at the Big MO
Go to Shealy's Barba
Visit the zoo/museum
Go to Lake Murray
Go to Miyabi's
Go to Myrtle Beach
Eat boiled peanuts
Eat chicken bog
Try sweet tea
Visit Charleston
Go to Groncho's and get and STP
Visit the Riverwalk, Congaree National Park and Saluda Shows Park
Get a tour of the South Carolina State House- it's cool!
Eat a pizzaburger
Spend the weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains
Go to HiWire in Irmo
Go to Carowinds
Go to Cupcake Down South
Go to Paparoni's Grill
Go to 5 Points
Go to the Vista
Go to the South Carolina State Fair
Go to a football game
Go to the Isle of Palms
Enjoy our beautiful State. Columbia is 2 hours from whatever you want!
Stay
Learn the accents
Eat grits
Go to the Columbiana Mall
Needless to say, I don't know what half of this stuff means (what's a chicken bog?!), but I try to check something off the list every week. I am not always successful, but my students are genuinely excited when I report back to them that I have taken their suggestions. It takes about 10 minutes out of class time, but the good will I get in return has been worth it. These kids are invested in my success, and they want me to enjoy living here.
The first inkling of a rudder to guide my new life has come from my students. They are my first southern community.
And I am very grateful.
How we got here
I was in a graduate program at Middlebury when I got the Facebook message from my husband, Bill.
He had just had a fabulous interview with a prospective employer in South Carolina, and it sounded like he wanted to take it.
When I left for my residential Spanish immersion program in Vermont, about two hours north of our New Hampshire home. I had a job I loved and lived in a home I enjoyed. I was looking forward to some empty nester time with Bill since our children would now be in college, both over 300 miles away.
I mean it didn't take me completely by surprise. Bill had been complaining about our NH winters for some time, threatening more and more often to move somewhere south to sell fish tacos off a boat at the earliest opportunity. We decided that he would begin feeling out potential employers once child number two had graduated from high school.
Then it happened: the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.
Superbowl Monday, we had a snow storm.
Normally during snowstorms, Bill would go to work while I, the teacher home due to a snow day, would clear the driveway.
But Bill always took the Monday after the big game as a personal day. So we had a conflict.
When it came to clearing snow, I had a method: wait until about 5 inches have fallen, then shovel. Lather, rinse, repeat until it stopped snowing.
So, the morning after yet another Patriots win, and all the controversy that came with it, I began to read a book so that snow would have time to accumulate. Bill, unaccustomed to being home during a storm, grew antsy. He wanted to shovel right away.
I told him that after a certain amount of time we could both go out to shovel the driveway, but he was unwilling to wait. He decided to face the storm alone.
After he had been outside for about half a chapter of Between Heaven and Mirth I heard him call my name from the whirling snow globe that had become my yard.
When I arrived at the door, he was already pulling himself upright, but the damage was done. He had broken his hand slipping on the ice on our stairs.
After months is various support mechanisms; casts, splints, braces, his hand was finally freed, but has never worked the same since that day.
Suddenly the headhunters looking for talented engineers with his particular skill set began to feel the tide turn their way. Bill began returning their calls, but only if they were south of the Mason-Dixon line.
When I left for grad school that summer, I was aware that Bill had an interview, but did not think much about it. After all, it would likely take him months to find a suitable match. I would have another year at my job. Bill would move wherever we would be going some time in February, I would work with a realtor to sell the house, and join him a few months later when school was out.
But on that July afternoon the Facebook message came, and I knew it was about to get complicated.
I took that Saturday off from Middlebury and drove home to talk about the implications of such a change and to offer my support. And when he accepted the job, I had to make my own decision: Do I look for a job in South Carolina right away, or wait until next year?
I decided to look right away, thinking that in July, a job near Bill's might be hard to come by, thus permitting me to avoid making any other decisions. As the fates would have it, however, I found one forty minutes away and was hired the day after my interview on Google Hangout.
Unbelievable.
So here we are. Living in South Carolina with just a few weeks' notice.
I knew it would be a big change. I know it will be a challenge. But I have decided to approach my new life in the South the same way I do when I am visiting countries overseas: with open eyes, with an open mind, and with an appreciation for the cultural differences I was about to discover.
If you, like I, find such comparisons fascinating, then read away, my friend. Read away.
He had just had a fabulous interview with a prospective employer in South Carolina, and it sounded like he wanted to take it.
When I left for my residential Spanish immersion program in Vermont, about two hours north of our New Hampshire home. I had a job I loved and lived in a home I enjoyed. I was looking forward to some empty nester time with Bill since our children would now be in college, both over 300 miles away.
I mean it didn't take me completely by surprise. Bill had been complaining about our NH winters for some time, threatening more and more often to move somewhere south to sell fish tacos off a boat at the earliest opportunity. We decided that he would begin feeling out potential employers once child number two had graduated from high school.
Then it happened: the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.
Superbowl Monday, we had a snow storm.
Normally during snowstorms, Bill would go to work while I, the teacher home due to a snow day, would clear the driveway.
But Bill always took the Monday after the big game as a personal day. So we had a conflict.
When it came to clearing snow, I had a method: wait until about 5 inches have fallen, then shovel. Lather, rinse, repeat until it stopped snowing.
So, the morning after yet another Patriots win, and all the controversy that came with it, I began to read a book so that snow would have time to accumulate. Bill, unaccustomed to being home during a storm, grew antsy. He wanted to shovel right away.
I told him that after a certain amount of time we could both go out to shovel the driveway, but he was unwilling to wait. He decided to face the storm alone.
After he had been outside for about half a chapter of Between Heaven and Mirth I heard him call my name from the whirling snow globe that had become my yard.
When I arrived at the door, he was already pulling himself upright, but the damage was done. He had broken his hand slipping on the ice on our stairs.
After months is various support mechanisms; casts, splints, braces, his hand was finally freed, but has never worked the same since that day.
Suddenly the headhunters looking for talented engineers with his particular skill set began to feel the tide turn their way. Bill began returning their calls, but only if they were south of the Mason-Dixon line.
When I left for grad school that summer, I was aware that Bill had an interview, but did not think much about it. After all, it would likely take him months to find a suitable match. I would have another year at my job. Bill would move wherever we would be going some time in February, I would work with a realtor to sell the house, and join him a few months later when school was out.
But on that July afternoon the Facebook message came, and I knew it was about to get complicated.
I took that Saturday off from Middlebury and drove home to talk about the implications of such a change and to offer my support. And when he accepted the job, I had to make my own decision: Do I look for a job in South Carolina right away, or wait until next year?
I decided to look right away, thinking that in July, a job near Bill's might be hard to come by, thus permitting me to avoid making any other decisions. As the fates would have it, however, I found one forty minutes away and was hired the day after my interview on Google Hangout.
Unbelievable.
So here we are. Living in South Carolina with just a few weeks' notice.
I knew it would be a big change. I know it will be a challenge. But I have decided to approach my new life in the South the same way I do when I am visiting countries overseas: with open eyes, with an open mind, and with an appreciation for the cultural differences I was about to discover.
If you, like I, find such comparisons fascinating, then read away, my friend. Read away.
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